


here in the shining city, here in the endless summer

by the_ragnarok



Series: the only one in my skin [6]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (jon isn't out so tim doesn't know jon's trans), Blow Jobs, Canon Asexual Character, M/M, Open Relationships, Relationship Negotiation, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, cis tim stoker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: Tim realizes some surprising things about his boss and coworker. The first is that Jon and Martin are dating; the second is that Martin might be into him, as well.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Series: the only one in my skin [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686532
Comments: 61
Kudos: 441





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Lee and cruelest_month for looking over this!
> 
> This actually came out of a prompt where Tim finds out about Jon and Martin where angst ensues; instead, I had polyamorous shenanigans ensues. The keys are like right next to each other.
> 
> The first chapter should stand on its own, as it might be a while before I get around to continuing this, heads up!
> 
> No words are used for Martin's bits in the first chapter; also, Tim does his best but he's cis and clueless, so take caution.

It's not the movie Tim wanted to see, but the theatre is almost empty and he can get the best seats, right in the middle. He's got a bucket of popcorn and a large glass of coke, which he is conscientiously saving for when the movie actually starts. Those keep him from moving when he sees two familiar figures shuffling into the seats in front of him.

He's a bit surprised by a series of factors, which are, in order: seeing Jon outside the office, seeing Jon and Martin together in a social situation, seeing them in such a situation alone, and realizing they're holding hands.

"What," Tim mouths silently.

He doesn't pay much attention to the movie after that. Instead, he keeps glancing at the row ahead, where Martin is twisted up to lay his head on Jon's shoulder. It looks uncomfortable.

Jon and Martin. Fuck, that's not a combination that Tim's ever considered. Up till recently, Jon has been nothing but a complete prick to Martin. Was that attraction in disguise? Or - Tim wonders, with a growing sense of dread - did Jon agree to finally treat Martin decently if Martin fucked him?

* * *

After the movie, he waits for them to get up first and follows them to the exit, where he clears his throat. Jon turns around to look at him, and the comical widening of his eyes is extremely gratifying.

"So," Tim drawls, "does HR know you've been going on movie dates with your employee?"

Jon flinches, which is very satisfying. Martin, on the other hand, narrows his eyes at Tim. "I suppose there's forms I could fill out," he says. "For consent or whatnot. I really don't see how it's any of your business."

Tim crosses his arms. "If he's pushing you, I'm not letting him get away with it." He worries about Martin; the only trans person in an office full of cis people has enough bullshit to be contending with, and Tim is guiltily aware he himself isn't doing as well as he should be. He'll be damned if he lets Jon take advantage.

Jon starts talking, but Martin overrides him with, "He is not pushing me, and I'll thank you for not making him worry _more_ about a relationship I entered enthusiastically." More softly, he adds, "Don't be a dick, Tim. I want this."

Tim sighs, deflating. He still tells Jon, "I'm keeping an eye on you," before turning to go.

"Probably somebody should," Jon says behind him, just barely loud enough to be heard.

* * *

A week of observation does put Tim's worries to rest a little bit. Because Martin seems happy, in a way he hasn't since they started working together. Jon's a little bit more lenient, sometimes in an outright positive mood. Tim is forced to conclude those two might be good for each other.

He's still keeping watch, though, and he's not letting it stop him from needling both of them about the issue.

"Promise me you'll never have sex on my desk," Tim says, when Sasha's out of the office and Martin's perching on said desk, idly gossiping.

The effect on Martin is immediate: he blushes, endearingly, and nearly pushes the files next to him off the desk. "Tim!"

"Or if you have," Tim continues, merciless, "I don't want to know about it."

Martin rolls his eyes. He's a fascinating combination of shy and fierce when it comes to Jon. "We have a policy against office sex. Don't worry, you won't have to see me naked."

Alright, Tim walked right into this one. If he reveals that he would, in fact, like to see Martin naked he would be creepy and possibly a chaser; if he says he wouldn't, he'd be lying, and supporting Martin's negative self-image. "A gentleman would avert his eyes," he temporizes. He never did claim to be a gentleman.

"Ahem," Jon says. Tim jerks his gaze guiltily to where Jon is standing, right outside his office. "If you two are done flirting, may I remind you we have work to do?"

"Oh!" Martin stands up in a hurry. "Yes. Of course. Sorry."

Jon holds up his hand and looks at Martin. Stiffly, he says, "I'm not angry. But you should get back to work."

Well. At least that's something. Tim glances at Jon and wonders about how jealous a boyfriend Jon might be.

* * *

If Tim's honest, he's had a bit of a thing for Martin ever since they started working together. Martin's _cute_ , all freckles and pretty hazel eyes, and Tim would dearly love to see if his skin is as soft as it looks. He never tried anything because he wasn't sure Martin would assert himself enough to discourage him. Martin barely spoke up to fix his pronouns on the times Tim got them wrong. (He did catch himself and apologize, but it happened more than once and Tim is not proud of himself.)

It's a little easier to flirt knowing Jon is keeping an eye on both of them, seeing Martin refuse to hear anything bad about Jon. Knowing he can only go so far before Martin remembers he has a boyfriend and pushes away. It becomes a game, to find out where the line is.

He is really not expecting for Jon to corner him one day and bluntly ask, "You keep hitting on Martin. Do you mean it?"

Tim isn't sure how he feels about it. "Did I make him uncomfortable?"

"You didn't, and that wasn't the question."

"If he doesn't mind, then why are you asking?" Tim parries.

Jon sighs. "I've been... having some ideas," he says reluctantly. "If you two are interested in one another. I assumed you would not be making a move because you assumed us to be exclusive, and he... well, he has his reasons. I thought I might facilitate."

Tim blinks. "You're not exclusive?"

"Not exactly. I don't particularly care either way," Jon says, looking studiously aside. "I do want Martin to enjoy certain acts which are... not on the table, between him and me. So if you were amenable, that might be a good development all around."

"You're hitting on me for your boyfriend?" Tim says, just to check if he's heard correctly.

Jon narrows his eyes. "I am asking whether you're interested in my boyfriend, to know whether I should encourage him to pursue you. I don't want to set him up for disappointment."

Well. That's interesting. "Alright, suppose I am," Tim says. "What kind of stuff is he into?"

Jon's mouth is a flat line. "I'll let the two of you discuss that," he says.

* * *

Tim's prepared to write the entire conversation off as a weird dream. He's almost put it out of his mind when Martin shyly suggests drinks after works; it's a pleasant surprise when Martin asks, over a gin and tonic, whether Tim would like to kiss him.

Martin's blushing, fair skin showing everything even in the dim light. His eyes are wide, hazel almost swallowed by the expanded pupil, and his lips are pink and slightly parted. Tim sets his thumb under Martin's lower lip to feel its delightful plushness, and leans in for that kiss.

He gets another pleasant surprise in that Martin is a filthy, unhesitating, no-holds-barred kisser. He grabs Tim's shoulders and pulls him close, demanding.

Then he breaks away, breathing hard. "S-sorry, I got carried away."

"Never," Tim says with fervor, "apologize for kissing me like that. Never. How about we go again?" Then he thinks better of it. "Or rather, let's go somewhere where you won't get us arrested for lewd conduct."

Martin blushes even harder, which Tim didn't think was possible. He also drags Tim into another kiss, just as wickedly hot, before he deigns to leave with him.

* * *

At Tim's flat, they spend a delicious twenty minutes sat on the sofa with Martin kneeling astride Tim's lap for more kisses. Martin _melts_ when Tim puts his hands on the small of his back, bringing him closer, nods enthusiastically at Tim asking "Can I..." and suggestively handling the hem of his shirt.

He's got his hands halfway up Martin's back (smooth skin, strong muscle, Tim _needs_ to see if the freckles continue all the way) when he runs into an unexpected band of fabric. Inappropriately, his first thought is, _bra_ , but of course he knows what a binder is. He's not a complete idiot. He'd done reading.

Above him, Martin freezes. Tim yanks away his hand like it's on fire, babbling, "Sorry! Sorry. I. Sorry."

Martin exhales. "You're fine," he says gently. "Let's just... pretend that that entire area doesn't exist, for now?"

"Of course," Tim says, dizzy with relief. "Any other areas falling under that guideline?"

Martin considers and shakes his head. Then he says, "Do you mind if I take my shirt off?"

"I absolutely do not," Tim says, greedily watching Martin's soft tummy exposed as he shoves his shirt off, and tipping him down to the sofa so Tim can easily mouth his collarbone. Martin moans and grabs at Tim's head.

A moment later, Tim freezes again, aware that he's on top of Martin after manhandling him. "Sorry, just - are you okay? Not feeling, ah, trapped or suchlike?"

"Tim, I'm fine," Martin says, exasperated. "You know what, why don't you sit back up? Will you feel better if I'm on top?"

Tim nods gratefully. When Martin holds Tim's head and brings his mouth back to its previous occupation, he can take a hint. Especially when Martin grinds down on him. Tim can smell his arousal, powerful and intoxicating. "Can I go down on you?" Tim mumbles, hazy with lust.

Wait, shit. Is he not supposed to do that? But Martin said--

Martin nips off that anxiety in the bud by moaning and saying, "Actually, would you mind if I sucked you off first?"

How is Tim meant to turn such a nice request down?

Martin runs his lips and tongue over Tim's shaft. His sweet little mouth feels just as lovely on his dick as hinted by those plush lips. Tim lets his head tip back into a groan. "Fuck, fuck, you feel so good. Martin, fuck, please."

"I barely got started," Martin murmurs with a grin, and pops the tip into his mouth, sucking on the head. Tim loses himself to sensation, only keeping enough presence of mind to grip the sofa cushions rather than Martin's hair. 

Tim's hardly inexperienced, but something about Martin is driving him to the edge like an absolute beginner. It doesn't help that Martin keeps moaning, his eyes rolling back when he takes Tim in deep, like giving head is a cherished fantasy Martin had never been able to fulfill.

If that makes Tim wonder what the hell he and Jon have been _doing_ , well, at least it staves his orgasm off for a few more minutes. Good thing, too, since Martin pulls off breathlessly and asks, "Would you fuck me?"

"Christ," Tim hisses, grabbing his dick to keep from spurting all over Martin's pretty face. "God, Martin, you can't just spring that question on a man with no preparation."

"Sorry," Martin says, but he is radiating smugness. It's a good look on him.

On the way to the bed - Tim thought having more room might be nice - anxiety hits again. When Martin asked to be fucked, did he mean... well, where did he mean? How?

In the bedroom, though, Martin neatly sorts this out by saying, "Lie down on the bed, close your eyes, and tell me where the condoms are. I'll take care of the rest, yeah?"

Tim gratefully obeys. He listens to the rustle of fabric and muffled curses as Martin takes off his remaining clothes. He holds his breath and counts back from a hundred as Martin rolls the condom down his cock, and tries not to make too pitiful noises when Martin straddles him.

Martin fucks him unsteadily for a few minutes, before flopping down and panting, "Christ, I'm out of shape. Would you mind taking over?"

"Not at all." Holding the condom and holding Martin as he flips them is purely muscle memory. "I'll keep my eyes closed. Any other requests?"

"As hard as you can, please," Martin says with incongruous politeness. "Don't worry about anything except absolutely nailing me to the mattress." Tim groans and obeys.

Martin's tight and hot around him, rippling, and he is not shy about scraping his nails down Tim's back. It emboldens Tim, helps him find a bit of extra strength tucked away. As technical fuckings go, it's a mess: barely any rhythm, his hands bracing and not touching Martin anywhere fun, just jackhammering. The kind of performance Tim really doesn't pride himself on, except for how it rips the absolute best noises out of Martin, the kind Tim wishes he could keep in a music box.

He does have the presence of mind to whisper, "You first. Please." He does have some standards.

Martin shimmies, gets a hand between them, and in two minutes he's squirming and gasping and milking Tim's cock with ruthless strength. Tim fucks him through it, then starts to pull out.

Martin wraps his legs around Tim's waist. "Please, please keep going."

"Are you sure?" Tim says. "You must be oversensitive."

"I want you to come inside me," Martin says, with steely deliberation that leaves no doubt whether he knows how this will hit Tim.

It hits him hard, like an electric charge to the spine, getting his hips thrusting again. He buries his face in Martin's throat, sucks irregular marks there as he fucks his way to orgasm.

After coming, he holds himself up, letting Martin scoot out from under him. Martin scoots back once Tim's lying down on the bed, arranging himself as the small spoon. Upon receiving permission to open his eyes, Tim satisfies himself with nuzzling the wealth of freckles he does indeed find there.

Martin squirms. "Don't," he complains. Before Tim can apologize, he adds, "I mean, you'll get me going again if you do. Don't start anything you can't finish."

"That," Tim says, "is literally the opposite of a problem."

So it is that Martin unceremoniously takes Tim's hand and puts it right over where he's wet and fucked open; when Tim hesitates, Martin says, "I want your fingers in me," and that seems straightforward enough. It's enormously rewarding, too, when Martin whines and shivers. Tim keeps nuzzling his back, fucking Martin with precise motions of his hand.

Martin comes well before Tim's hand starts cramping, always a good thing. "Fuck," Martin says, staring up dreamily at the ceiling. "You have no idea how much I needed that."

Raising again the question of Jon, but Tim firmly files this under _none of my business_ and proceeds to cuddle Martin like a pro.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing with Martin becomes a regular occurence, much to Tim's delight. They never get terribly fancy: they fuck, Martin sucks him off. The few times Tim has tried offering to go down on Martin ended up with Tim somehow getting blown.

It's awesome, but Tim's worried.

Surely there isn't a shortage of men who'd be happy to have Martin suck their cocks. Martin's so good at it, with his sweet mouth and hungry enthusiasm. Fucking him is likewise excellent. After Jon's dark hints, Tim was bracing himself for any number of filthy kinks Martin could have. He likes to think he would've gone along with them, whatever they were. He's an open-minded guy. But the longer Martin keeps to vanilla sex - and not only that, but the porny kind of sex that hardly any man would refuse - the more Tim wonders what exactly is it that Martin isn't telling him.

When Martin shows up at his flat on a weekend night, strangely shy in a way he hadn't been since they started this, Tim knows. This is the night that Martin's going to tell him. Tim is going to be open, and accepting, and totally cool with whatever it is.

He is really not expecting Martin to say, "Would you touch my chest, if I asked you?"

Tim's jaw literally drops. He hurries to close his mouth before he can start drooling like the horny idiot he is. "Are you sure?"

Martin exhales and nods. How can Tim say no to that?

They begin in what's become their usual position, sat on the sofa with Martin straddling Tim's lap, kissing. Martin loves kissing so much, opens to it like a flower to the sun, and Tim's a fan of the act himself.

Everything goes as usual until Martin gets off his lap to remove his binder. In what is by now an ingrained habit, Tim averts his gaze. He is half tempted to offer to help, but it's probably better to wait for Martin to ask.

"Right," Martin says, with a determined little exhale. He sits right back in Tim's lap, this time facing away, and he brings Tim's hand straight to--

Tim's mind grinds to a halt. He gently feels Martin up. Soft. Fuck, so soft, and _ample_ , and Martin makes sweet little noises when Tim rolls one of his nipples between thumb and forefinger.

"Can I," Tim says, fumbling for words, "use my mouth?"

Martin takes a moment, but then he nods. Tim forces himself to let go for long enough that Martin can turn around. Shyly, Martin asks, "Do you like them?"

Fuck, does he ever. "They're great," Tim says fervently. "You have fantastic-- um."

Laughing, Martin says, "It's okay. You can say tits."

"Your tits are fantastic," Tim says in a rush. "Fuck, I need to suck your nipples right now."

Martin wordlessly guides Tim's head to his chest, and Tim takes one pink nipple in his mouth, giving it an experimental nibble. He raises his eyes to meet Martin's.

Martin blushes and turns away.

A short time later they are in Tim's bed, with Martin on his back and Tim knelt between his spread legs, dragging Martin halfway into his lap to be fucked. TIm's fascinated eyes note the jiggle of Martin's tits on every thrust, and for once he stays in his upright position as he fucks Martin as hard as he can. It's a workout, but the view is more than worth it.

"You're gorgeous," Tim gasps. "So fucking beautiful."

"Tim!" Martin's voice catches on his name in a long whine. "Harder, harder, please--"

In his haste to comply, Tim doesn't have the breath to say any more. All he can do is thrust, and watch as Martin rubs himself off into coming on Tim's cock. Tim has to fight tooth and nail to hold off climax until Martin's sobbing out his last moans. Then, finally, he lets go into Martin's warm, welcoming body.

Tim holds himself up for Martin to move into their usual cuddling position. Martin draws him down to rest on that magnificent chest. Far be it from Tim to complain.

That is, until he realizes that Martin's pounding heart isn't slowing down, that his muscles are tense."Martin? You okay?"

"I'm an idiot," Martin mumbles, and starts crying.

Tim sits up as quickly as a sprung trap. "Oh, shit. Martin?" Martin shakes his head and doesn't say anything, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Martin, what's wrong?" He feels very silly asking, especially as Martin curls up like he's trying to physically remove his chest from the rest of his body. Obviously, Tim shouldn't have touched him there, or talked about it.

Except Martin asked him to. Everything Tim's read said to listen to people about their bodies, how they want to be touched and what they want to be called. What was he meant to do?

Meanwhile, he has Martin curled up miserably and crying in his bed. Tim has no idea how to handle this. In his desperation, he picks up his phone, in hopes someone else would.

A dial tone rings. Then, "Jonathan Sims," says the man himself.

Tim winces. "I think I broke your boyfriend."

He's expecting Jon to snap at him. Instead, he says, evenly, "Does he have his phone? Get it for him and tell him to text me. I'll take it from there. Watch out for texts, yourself."

Tim frowns. "Wouldn't a phone call be better?"

"For the person who let him get upset, you're awfully certain about how to conduct communications," Jon says, now in the snappish tone Tim expected from earlier.

He's not wrong, though. Tim brings Martin his phone, which has started chiming with - was that a discord notification sound? Eh. Not important.

Even through his tears, Martin clutches his phone, and starts typing rapidly. He starts crying harder, but just as Tim is considering calling Jon again to yell at him, Martin abruptly relaxes into the mattress.

At the same time, Tim's phone chimes with a text from Jon. _Get him a blanket and make him some tea._ He follows this up with Martin's tea preferences, as though Tim didn't know them already. Like he's some amateur.

Tim tells himself he's the one who called for help, covers Martin up, and goes to make tea.

When Tim returns to the bedroom, tea in hand, Martin's sitting up, wrapped in the blanket. He's still crying intermittently, but he seems better. "Sorry," is the first thing he tells Tim.

"Hey, no." Tim puts the tea on the bedside table and sits down next to Martin, opening his arms. Martin wiggles himself to clinging to Tim's side, gratifyingly. Tim's arm comes down over Martin's shoulders. "This isn't your fault."

"It _is_." Martin sniffles.

Gently, Tim prods. "Did you know this will happen?"

"I should have known." Martin squirms.

"It's happened before?"

"Yeah, but not in a while. I thought," he sniffles again, "I was over it. It never--"

The sentence completes itself in Tim's mind. "It never happened with Jon?" he blurts, slightly incredulous.

"Well. No." Martin gives him a wide-eyed look. "But it's not your fault! Jon's just... different."

Being magically dysphoria resistant is not a skill Tim would have thought to attribute to Jon, but... "If you say so, I suppose he is." This does not bode well for their pleasant little arrangement; Tim may do a mean Jon impression, but that doesn't mean he can replicate his moves in bed. Which he is _still_ curious about it, damn it.

Martin takes a shaky breath and cuddles close. Tim holds him, thoughts going too fast. They need to talk about this.

Not now. When Martin's feeling better. For now, they can cuddle.

* * *

_can i come over?_ Martin texts him the weekend.

Tim considers. With some regret, he writes, _Maybe go out?_ and names a place he likes, quiet enough. _We should talk_

For a suspiciously long time, Martin doesn't answer. Then he writes, _r u breaking up w me. if so can you come over. i'm not putting my binder back on to be broken up with._

_Not breaking up!_ Tim sends back hastily. _I meant, talk about how to keep last time from repeating itself._

Tim's a little surprised when his phone rings. It's Martin.

After the exchange of hellos, Martin says, "Is it okay if we talk on the phone? I was serious about not wanting to put on my binder."

Tim can respect that. "Sure. So, did you have any ideas?"

Martin hesitates for a long moment. "I have one, actually, but I'm not sure if it's going to work."

"Well, what is it?"

When Martin tells him, Tim nearly drops the phone.

* * *

Jon sits on the very edge of his chair, back ramrod straight. Martin sits next to him, only slightly more at ease on Tim's sofa.

The sofa he'd fucked Martin on repeatedly, Tim's memory chimes cheerfully. Tim shakes his head. But he does tell Jon, "Would you lighten up? You're making me nervous."

Jon's gaze flickers between Tim and Martin, and he seems to come to a decision. He exhales and relaxes marginally.

Tim figures that's the best he'll get. "So. Jon, Martin says you're better at figuring out his boundaries than he is." Which, again, sounds very odd to Tim, but he's not about to dispute Martin about his own needs. "So the question is, how do I keep from making him miserable?"

Jon's expression sharpens in focus. "Some details would help." He asks Martin, "What were you doing, when you became upset?"

"Cuddling," Tim supplies, just to be difficult.

Martin hurriedly adds, "Before that we had, uh, PIV sex. With Tim paying attention to my-- chest."

Jon turns his laser-beam eyes on Tim. "Was that with your permission, Martin?"

"It was at my request," Martin says, a bit snappish in a way Tim's never heard him before. "Come off it, Jon, I didn't bring you here to tell Tim off."

Jon takes a moment before saying, "Of course. I apologize," a bit stiffly. "Which leads us to the question of, what specifically about your interaction with Tim set off your dysphoria."

Martin buries his face in his hands. "I don't _know_. He didn't say anything."

Jon considers. "Perhaps the, ah, active penetration, combined with chest contact?"

"Maybe?" Martin looks up again. He's biting his lip. "I don't think that's it."

Jon's face remains unmoved. He whips out his phone and starts texting.

"Hey! Rude!" Tim protests.

Martin glares at him. "Sometimes that's how we communicate," he says evenly. His phone chimes, he looks at it, and nods. "Also, what Jon just said is private, and not something relevant to you." He turns his gaze to Jon. "Anyway, I think you're right." Then his face falls. "Which means I have no idea how to solve this."

"Okay, but if I'm in this conversation, let me _be_ in this conversation," Tim says. "If you need to talk in text, let's set up a text group or something."

"Yes," Jon says. "That's a good idea." Five minutes and some fiddling later, they're all sitting there with phones in hand. Jon spends a moment typing out a message, and sends.

*I suspect the issue is that the scene wasn't constructed in a way that affirmed Martin in his gender, and thus left him dysphoric. I do have a few ideas on how to tackle this, if you're interested in listening.*

*ofc I am,* Tim sends irritably. *but idk what you mean. I don't construct anything*

Jon sends him an unreadable gaze. *When you're with Martin, how do you strive to make him feel?*

Tim goggles. *good?!*

This time, Jon's gaze is visibly irritable. *Obviously that, but what mood do you try for? What kind of emotional experience?*

Tim looks to Martin for help, but Martin only looks chagrined. "Jon," he says - oh, so they are allowed to talk out loud? - "You need to explain what you mean."

Jon purses his mouth. *Take a spanking scene,* he writes. *You could go for a mood of strict discipline, playfulness, loving catharsis - those are just examples off the top of my head.*

"Okay, but we weren't doing anything like that," Tim says.

*The exact acts are immaterial. Every scene has a mood.*

Tim rakes a hand through his hair. He's not _stupid_ , Jon is just very talented at making people feel like they are. He knows that. "I guess... horny? And playful?"

Jon nods. "I suppose that'll have to do," he says. Then he sends, *In that context, let's think of ways to make Martin feel affirmed as a man, specifically. Perhaps praise?*

Tim considers it. "Like what? Call him a good boy?" He supposes he could do that.

Martin squirms. "I don't think that would feel right. Not from Tim - no offense, yeah? I just don't think it would work for us."

Jon taps a thoughtful finger against his lip. *If we're keeping with the horny mood, perhaps talking about his cock might work. What Tim wants to do to it, or wants Martin to do with it.*

"I would be pretty happy to suck your cock," Tim says, thoughtfully.

Jon darts a quick, surprised look, like the word _cock_ being spoken out loud in a sexual negotiation is weird.

"I don't think that would work, either. I'm sorry," Martin says, miserable. "I don't mean to be difficult."

"Hey, no," Tim says. "What you need is what you need. We'll work with it."

Jon types something fervently, then sends it - in a private channel, probably, since Tim doesn't see it. Nevermind.

*If you're comfortable with dehumanization, humiliation, and animal play,* Jon then sends to both of them, *that opens more options.*

"Dehumanization, humiliation, and animal play," Tim says slowly. "Care to elaborate?"

Jon nods, and then types for long enough that Tim starts to feel uncomfortable. When he finally receives the text, it has _paragraphs._

Once more, Tim isn't stupid, but he does feel that doing this much analysis of sex kinda takes the magic out of it. He scans the text - something about a _narrative arc_ , of all things - and says, "Right, I don't think I can do that." He catches Martin making himself smaller, and mentally whacks himself on the back of the head. "I just don't understand how to connect any of these to how I have sex. If I tried, I'm pretty sure it would just come across ridiculous."

Jon gives him a long, unfathomable look. "Perhaps," he says, "a practical demonstration is in order."

Tim parses this. "Are you suggesting a threesome?"

Jon's look turns quelling. "A demo. You will not participate, only watch. We will, of course, discuss comfort limits - both yours and ours - before we try this, if we do."

How could Tim refuse? The way Jon talks about sex makes it seem like an alien planet, and now he's invited to play (respectful) tourist. He's dying of curiosity. "Sure. Where do I sign?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:
> 
> \- Dysphoria  
> \- Usage of the word 'tits' for Martin's chest, at his request  
> \- A lot of negotiation  
> \- Some mild disparagement of heavily planned/constructed scenes (which - intuitive sex isn't superior to planned sex or kink!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the number of chapters changed, so the last chapter will be the next one

Tim surveys the first page of the kink checklist Jon has handed him. The pile of papers made a formidable _thump_ as it hit the desk.

To Tim's relief, Martin also looks daunted. "I didn't think we did that much," he tells Jon.

"I wanted to be thorough." Jon hunches his shoulders.

Martin goes to stand behind Jon, hugging him around the waist. "I'm sure you were, and that Tim appreciates it." Martin's look over Jon's shoulder broadcasts clearly that Tim had damn better appreciate it.

To be fair, Jon obviously put a lot of work into this. It's not a mere checklist like Tim thought: next to _animal play_ , for one thing, there are a bunch of examples: "standing on all fours" is one, "mooing" is another (mooing? Seriously?); "yanking on nipples in a simulation of milking"... actually sounds pretty hot.

The next page is all about CNC, which turns out stands for "consensual non-consent". Tim reads the first example before going, "Nope!" out loud, and crossing out that entire page. He darts a look at Jon and Martin; he's a little surprised to see Martin look disappointed, but eh. He'll live.

As he reads on, he feels his eyebrows reaching practically to his hairline. "This is all stuff you've done?"

"You don't need to look so surprised," Jon says, almost sulking.

It's fascinating, honestly. The sheer imagination in some of the clauses - pretending to be a breeding slave whose chest is full of alien eggs, which one of them came up with that? - is way out of what Tim's used to.

The very last page is titled "vanilla" and has such items as "kissing on the mouth", kissing a bunch of other parts, rimming, dildos and vibrators. Tim notes that penis-in-vagina sex isn't on the menu, apparently, which is interesting. (Fisting is, and Tim does not think that belongs on the "vanilla" page, but he's not about to argue it with Jon.)

"Alright," Tim says, once he's done with the papers. "What about your limits?"

Jon looks at him with an unreadable expression. "I'd prefer if you didn't make comments during the scene."

"Oh, come on, would I do that?"

"Yes," Martin and Jon say simultaneously. Tim grins, unabashed.

"This should go without saying," Jon continues, "but don't try to touch Martin or myself." Tim rolls his eyes. He does understand what _observation_ means. "If you have questions afterwards, please do ask, but understand we may not answer everything."

"Well, obviously." Tim considers. "Is that it?"

"I also figure you'd take this as said, but just in case," Martin says, low and tense. "Don't talk about this to other people, especially in the Institute. We don't want to be a source of gossip."

Tim thinks of making a glib reply, then thinks better. "Of course," he says softly.

Martin's smile is a beautiful thing. He's veritably glowing. Even Jon seems to melt a little from how adorable Martin is.

* * *

Tim shows up to Jon's place in all-black slacks and button-down. Jon opens the door in his work clothes; it's possible that a tiny part of Tim hoped for assless chaps. Well, nevermind that.

Jon welcomes him in. Martin is already in the living room, sat on the sofa, wearing one of his cuddlier jumpers. Both of them look excited. "Right," Jon says. "Shall we start? Or do you want some tea first?"

"I'm good." Tim sits and settles his hands on his thighs, rubbing them a bit in anticipation. Jon had asked whether Tim wanted a rundown of the scene before they went through it; Tim had said, "Surprise me." It's a fun kind of suspense.

"Strip," Jon tells Martin. Tim perks up. "And get on hands and knees."

Martin doesn't try to strip sexily. He's plenty sexy without trying, but he takes off his clothes in a utilitarian fashion, folding them to a neat pile on an armchair. He gets into position without fuss. He didn't have a binder on today.

Jon looks at him with an expression Tim has difficulty placing, a spark of hunger that seems out of place on Jon's face. He kneels on the floor in front of Martin, cupping one side of Martin's chest in his hand. Tim feels the phantom weight of that softness in his own hand, wanting to squeeze.

Jon doesn't squeeze. Instead, he draws his hand back, and slaps Martin's chest sharply. Martin lets out a yelp. This doesn't deter Jon, who keeps going for nine more slaps, alternating sides. Then he retreats, and sits on his heels. "Do you know why I'm doing this?" Martin nods. "Then tell me."

Martin tenses up. Tim tenses up as well.

But all Jon does is stroke Martin's back. "Tell me," he says again, "why don't you show Tim how good you can be for me?"

Martin shivers. "It's because you like to," he says, in a near whisper.

"But why do I like to?"

"Because I'm... good?" Martin looks up at Jon, like he's nervous.

Jon cups Martin's face in his hands. "You're very good. You make such lovely noises, respond so well for me. Of course I want to hurt you."

Martin shivers again, but he's preening, unmistakably.

Jon puts his hand on Martin's shoulder, urging him to kneel up. Then he pushes Martin's thighs apart, stroking his fingers between Martin's legs, making him shudder and gasp. "Wet," Jon says with approval. "Like I said: responding so well." He angles his fingers, pushing inside. With his other hand, he takes hold of Martin's chest and puts one pink nipple in his mouth.

"Jon." Martin's voice is nearly a whine, low, unlike anything Tim's ever heard from him. It doesn't stop until Jon stops tormenting his nipple.

"I could make you come now." Jon sounds completely normal, like he's discussing lunch options at work. "Take you apart while Tim sees, would you like that?" Martin nods eagerly. "Mm. Or I could make you wait." He smiles. "Guess which one I'll choose?"

"You're such a bastard," Martin says, which Tim doesn't expect. He doesn't expect the fond tone of Martin's voice, either.

Jon's smile only grows a bit wider. He pushes Martin to stand up, maneuvers him to lie on a sofa: it has a towel spread over it. Tim thought it was a throw rug earlier. Martin's laid on his back, and Jon urges him to put one leg up, resting his shin on the back of the sofa. The position spreads him out. Tim can see everything, not least among it the copious evidence of Martin's arousal.

With a satisfied hum, Jon thrusts three fingers inside Martin, wringing a beautiful noise out of him. "You like showing yourself off, don't you?" Jon says. "You like Tim watching your greedy little hole get stuffed?"

Something's odd, and it takes Tim a moment to realize that it's more than the inherent weirdness of listening to his boss dirty-talk his coworker cum (ha) fuckbuddy. It's that Jon isn't out of breath. Tim doesn't know if he could tell whether Jon is flushed, but he's definitely not sweating.

Not that Jon looks disinterested. Far from it. He looks fascinated, like Martin's a particularly delectable mystery. But Tim darts a look at Jon's crotch, and sees absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

While Tim is trying to make sense of that, Jon keeps talking to Martin. Tim snaps back into the conversation when Jon says, still in a completely conversational tone, "Maybe I should bring a toy to plug up your other hole. Wouldn't want you feeling empty."

"Jon!" The word is a moan, long and drawn out. "Jon, please!"

"Please, what?" Jon says, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Please let me come," Martin pants, and it's all Tim can do not to offer his assistance. He did promise not to interfere.

Jon only pets Martin's hair with his clean hand, and says, "Soon, alright? First, let's give Tim a good show. Can't disappoint him, after he'd come so far."

"You really couldn't disappoint me," Tim blurts despite himself.

To his gladness, Jon only raises an eyebrow. Tim mimes zipping up his lips, and Jon rolls his eyes. Focusing back on Martin, he says, "Think you can come on command, today?"

"Please," Martin says. "Please, just let me."

"On the count of three, then. One, two, th--"

The rest of Jon's sentence is swallowed up by Martin's wail, and Tim watches in fascination as Martin gushes around Jon's fingers, the blanket darkening with his wetness. 

"Excellent," Jon whispers. "You've done so well. Such a good boy."

The words make Martin moan and shiver, as though coming all over again. Tim has seen a lot of hot things, and this is in serious competition for first place.

Martin's eyes settle on Tim. "Hey," he says, out of breath and flushed and gorgeous. "Are you okay?"

Tim frowns, puzzled, before following Martin's gaze to his crotch, cock straining against the zipper. "I'll be fine," Tim says, reassuring.

"If you're sure." Martin looks back to Jon and, plaintively, says, "It seems mean to send him back home like this. Sure I can't help him take care of it?"

"Let's not make any advances we haven't discussed while still high from a scene, hm?" Jon says. Tim's cock protests, but Tim has to agree this seems sensible. "Shall we put your chest away, now?"

"Yes, please."

When Jon speaks next, he sounds a bit like when he's recording statements, his voice deep and ringing. "You can put your chest away now," he says. "It's done a good job making you feel good, hasn't it?" Martin nods, and obeys when Jon instructs him to put on a shirt. "Now it can leave your mind. It's just a part of your body. You are a man, and your body is a male body. There is only you, under the shirt. Nothing else."

"Nothing else," Martin says. His muscles loosen visibly, until he's lying on the sofa, practically a liquid. Jon leans close and pecks him on the cheek. "Come cuddle me. I know my rights." He's clearly talking to Jon, but he gives Tim a wistful look.

Jon follows Martin's gaze. "I believe," he says slowly, "that the potential harm in cuddling now would be low, if Tim wanted to join us."

"I believe we'd fall off the sofa," Martin counters, "but maybe in bed?"

Jon seems conflicted, but he folds when confronted with Martin's puppy eyes. "Alright, then, if everyone is comfortable with it."

To Tim's surprise, he does feel comfortable with it. His arousal had faded a bit during that whole guided meditation bit with Martin's chest, and he could definitely enjoy some Martin hugs. "Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, boss." He manfully stifles his laughter at Jon's horrified response to that word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:
> 
> \- kink negotiation  
> \- mild impact to chest  
> \- sex while consensually observed  
> \- mild degrading praise  
> \- mention of kinks appearing in this series before, including CNC/rape fantasies, fisting, cow play, and others


End file.
